


The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by FenHarelsPride



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenHarelsPride/pseuds/FenHarelsPride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the events at The Winter Palace. Inquisitor Lavellan arrives for the ball and Solas is immediately aware of her behavior towards the dashingly handsome commander Cullen, and he towards her. Unable to control himself, he steals her away for a tender moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Night in Red Silk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744546) by [solasharel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solasharel/pseuds/solasharel). 



“Impératrice, C'est ton reigne que nous adorons Par cette chanson, dans tout Orlaïs Nous glorifions ton nom…” The bard’s gentle voice rung out in the hall beside the courtyard where Solas observed the guests as they gossiped about the upcoming peace talk between Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons and Empress Celene. The Empress had spared nothing in her decorations of the palace. Jeweled chandeliers sparkled with streams of blue and gold satin between them and tables were set with Orlais finest dishes. Solas was much too apprehensive to taste any of the hors d'oeuvres himself, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about indulging himself. It was a pity that the night would most likely end in disaster as the Game played out.

Solas had been there for quite some time to listen for any rumors of unrest at the party. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no real conspiracies as of yet. At least nothing of concern to the Inquisition. Although, each whisper seemed to carry a common theme, and that was the Inquisitor. Her name seemed to be on the tip of every tongue and Solas couldn't help grinning to himself. To think that she, a Dalish elf, would be so anticipated. Even more so than the peace talks or even the Empress herself. Knowing her, though, he was not surprised. Fixing the cuff of his jacket he couldn’t help but feel alien to the nobles around him. Although he was dressed in the same manner of attire, to them he was just the same as the pointed ear servants across the hall. He wasn’t upset by that fact, though. In fact it quite worked to his advantage. It has been decades since he was last able to participate at such an event.

The soft chatter around him slowly came to a halt as the foyer bell rang to announce another arriving guest. Solas knew who it was immediately. He had become accustomed to the aura she presented that was able to touch vast distances. He couldn’t quite describe it, but if he had to he would say that it was the feeling of calm before a storm. Her energy was serene, almost gentle, but just below the surface bubbled a tempest just waiting to be unleashed. Solas made his way to the vestibule to observe her arrival. As he caught sight of her his stomach tightened and he found it impossible to look away.

Athelya Lavellan entered the palace and the guests rushed to catch a glimpse of her every step. Solas swallowed as he consumed the sight of her and her attire. Vivienne and many of her designers had worked tirelessly to create a look unique to the Inquisitor and her personality since they received the invitation. “I want to make a statement, dear.” Solas had overheard Vivienne say once. “We want you to be the center of attention. For one night, you will be a goddess.” And that she was. The dress was floor length and left a slight trail behind her as she walked. Solas could just barely catch a glimpse of her feet as she lifted the front in an effort to make her steps more graceful. They were bound in classic Dalish style, but instead of feet wraps it was delicate silver chains that left the sound of soft bells as she moved. He smiled at that. He could imagine Vivienne trying to teach Athelya to walk in heels and it ending in complete and utter disaster, thus this fashionable compromise. He continued to take in the dress; an ivory waterfall that cascaded to the marble floor, a slight slit that revealed her pale russet skin. The ruffled bodice tied tight in the back, accentuating her waistline and leaving her shoulders bare, save for the alabaster and crystal chain bolero that hugged her torso almost like bird cage, resting delicately at her breast. The dress highlighted all her natural beauty, revealing, yet leaving some things to the imagination. It was tantalizing. Solas noted with disdain the hungry eyes of noblemen who watched her as she made her way to greet the Empress. Solas stalked behind her as she arrived at the staircase above the ballroom.

“Now presenting the Inquisitor, Lady Lavellan of Clan Lavellan, and her guests.” The young lad at the top of the staircase announced. Gracefully, Athelya descended the staircase, meeting the eyes of curious onlookers. She look proud and curious all at once. Her eyes displayed determination and the smile on her face was soft yet brimming with confidence. They all knew that, while they had yet to use weapons, this was still a battlefield. This was life or death, and they could not risk losing. The Empress looked down and offered her guest of honor a dazzling smile.

“Welcome, Inquisitor. We are honored to be in your presence this evening.” Celene mused in her thick Orlesian accent.

“Not as honored as I, your grace.” She replied, offering up a low curtsy. “This place is… no words can describe it’s majesty. Not even in my own tongue.”

“I am glad to hear it!” Celene beamed, “Please, enjoy the festivities.” and with that Lavellan curtsied once more then turned to Cullen. Smiling she reached out her hand and Solas noted that they were stained with elegant tattoos of ivy and oak leaves that reached to her forearm. Intriguing, he thought to himself. Very few Dalish clans still practiced dye-tattoos.

“Cullen,” she smiled. “You look dashing.”

“I—Thank you, Inquisitor.” Cullen smiled awkwardly. “It is nothing in comparison to you. I don’t think anyone here could have beaten that entrance.”

“Hmm, why must everything be a competition with you?”

“It, it’s not I was just trying to offer you a compliment and—”

“I’m teasing you.” She interrupted him and smirked. Solas couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that he felt. The commander had status, and reason, to be by her side, and even though there were many other young ladies at the party vying for his attention, he gave them none. It wasn’t the first time that Solas felt that the commanders affection towards Lavellan were more than just that of companionship. “If it’s not too impolite of me to ask, I would like to request a dance.”

“With me?”

“Yes. Who do you think I’m talking to, Cullen?”

“Sorry I, well, that was just an unexpected question.”

“Unexpected?” She snorted. “A little bird told me that half of Orlais has already asked you to dance, but I understand. I will just be on my way.” She playfully turned on her heel and Cullen stuttered to stop her.

“No, I would like to but… are you sure?” He sent nervous glances in Solas’s direction.  Athelya leaned in close to whisper something in his ear and Solas felt his face grow hot with rage. He had heard enough.

“Inquisitor, may we speak a moment?” His voice was tense as he planted himself at Lavellan's side.

“Hmm?” She turned to face Solas, arching her brow at him. “What is it Solas?”

“I wish to speak with you in private.” He shot Cullen a glare, causing him to awkwardly shift his feet.

“I, um, I think I hear someone calling for me.” Cullen pipped up, shuffling in the opposite direction.

“Rude, much?” Athelya pursed her lips, clearly dissatisfied with Solas' behavior. She hid it well, but the attention they were now drawing made her nervous. This was not part of the plan. 

“It was necessary.”

“How so?”

“Talk. Now. In private.” It wasn’t a question this time. Athelya eyed him before giving him a small nod.

“Ma nuvenin.” He grabbed her wrist without hesitation and proceeded to escort her down a secluded hallway. His face was burning and he could feel it, which made him even more embarrassed at his lack of composure. Only she could break him like this. She was maddening. He unlocked the door to an empty parlor that he has discovered while searching the palace beforehand. Placing his hand on her lower back he gently, but firmly, ushered her into the dark room, He locked the door behind them and turned to face her.

“Athelya I—” But before he even could even think of what to say she pressed her lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. He hesitated at first, but he couldn’t resist the temptation she presented. He kissed her back, hard and deep. He needed to have every piece of her. His nostrils filled with her scent, which was the perfect blend of mint and vanilla. His fingers grasped her waist and pressed her firmly against him.

“Mmm.” She breathed, slightly taken aback by his force. He chuckled against her lips, his other hand digging into her soft raven black hair. They let themselves go for a few more moments before she hesitantly pushed him away. “Solas…” Her hands shook against his shoulder. He frowned at her and she sighed. “Solas… I am sorry. I couldn’t help it I saw the way you looked at me in the ballroom and how jealous you got and…” She didn’t know how to finish. Solas shook his head and gently brought her hand to his lips, He placed a delicate kiss upon the scar on her palm. The scar that caused this mess. The scar that gave her the ability to open rifts. The scar that emitted the same dazzling color of her eyes. The scar that was his fault and was a constant reminder of the mess he had made and the life he had changed.

“Ma’arlath, ma vhenan.” He helplessly whispered into her fingertips. Her face turned pink and her brow scrunched up with concern.

“Solas?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I am sorry. I was childish. I knew what you were doing was for the Game and yet I…” He didn’t have the words to continue and she nodded. Reaching out, she cupped his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her soft touch.

“Ma emma lath, Solas. Me vhenan’ara.” She stood up on her tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I am sorry. I should have been more considerate to how you felt. I would have asked you to dance, but you knew why I could not.” And he did know. This night was more important than them. But she was so beautiful, He detested everyone who laid eyes on her. To them she was something exotic. Something for display, to look at and to play with as they liked. She was so much more than that. In her, he had found a wise and compassionate spirit. He has found solace in her presence. For once in his life, he felt safe outside of the Fade. He wanted to be outside the Fade, if it meant he got to be with her. It scared him. It really, really scared him. Which was why he had to pull back.

“You should go.”

“I know…” She exhaled, a glint in her eyes. The same look her eyes got everytime he pulled away. Her eyes searched his with that same unspoken question. Why? Why did he push her away? It was a question he could never answer. Pursing her lips, she nodded and made to move past him.

“Wait.” She halted, looking over her shoulder to him. “After this is all over… save a dance for me?”

“Of course.” She smiled, closing the door behind her. Once alone, Solas let out a long and weary breath. The touch of her skin still lingered on his fingertips and he could still taste her on his lips. Solas savored these small moments, because he knew they would never last. Just then something caught his eye. Crouching down, Solas examined the ring that lay on the floor. It was a sylvanwood ring that depicted the Dalish tale of Fen’Harel. With a start he realized that it was Athelya’s as she had been the First in her clan before the Breach. He picked it up and twisted it with his fingers, lost in thought. This was the answer to that unspoken question. The answer he could never give her. He was deceiving her and she innocently believed in him. He was the wolf and she his little lamb.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen Translations:  
> Ma nuvenin: as you wish  
> Ma’arlath, ma vhenan: I love you, my heart  
> Ma emma lath: you are my love  
> Me vhenan’ara: my hearts desire


End file.
